Shades of Grey (chapter 5, pt.1)
DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Author: SilverKytten
Title: Shades of Grey (chapter 5, pt. 1)
Rating: R (overall - NC-17)
Pairing: IchigoxUrahara
Warnings: Yaoi, language, angst, graphic content, spoilers
Summary: The sequel to ‘Falling Into Darkness' - Ichigo never asked to be either loved or fixed, he just asked to be distracted. (previous chapters)
Notes: This chapter was too long to post on LJ, so I am breaking it up into two parts. I've marked them clearly as part one and two, and will be a link to the other part in each post. Hopefully this isn't too confusing.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All characters associated with the series are the property of Tite Kubo, I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement.
We Are Soldiers - pt. 1
Ichigo watched his father pace wordlessly into the room and felt Urahara tense almost imperceptibly above him. The reiatsu that had been coiled around his body, allowing him to move undetected, was starting to fluctuate under the strain of his anger. His eyes glittered with a manic fire as he stared down at his son, half naked and flushed beneath the object of his rage.
Yoruichi was slipping along the wall, pausing to pick up the sake jug so she could peer into it. He hadn’t seen her in months. After the war, she’d come out of her self-imposed exile and returned to Soul Society to help rebuild. As a member of one of the four noble houses, her word carried a lot of weight, and her presence helped add stability to an organization that had suffered a number of demoralizing blows.
She wore a look of distaste as she sniffed the jug delicately, as if it somehow confirmed her worst fears. She looked up at Ichigo, but he didn’t notice, his eyes had already fixed on a spot behind her where Zangetsu lay. He nudged Urahara gently.
“Who else did you bring with you?” the blond asked lightly, rolling off Ichigo and to his feet in one fluid motion.
“It doesn’t matter,” Isshin growled, finally tearing his eyes from his son.
“I beg to differ, Isshin.” Urahara drew Benihime, resting the blade lightly against his leg, “They seem to be agitating my staff.”
The thought of the kids being in danger finally shook Ichigo from his trance and he climbed to his feet, retying his hakama. He moved towards Zangetsu but Yoruichi stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
“What do you think you’re doing, Kisuke?” she demanded, staring over Ichigo’s shoulder, shaking the jug sharply. “Has he been drinking?”
“I’m right here, you know.” Ichigo gritted his teeth, giving her a hard look.
“Are you drunk?” She ran an assessing eye over him, wrinkling her nose at his state of undress as though she’d suddenly found a sense of modesty.
“Do I look drunk?” he countered, his eyes narrowed in warning.
“You gave my son alcohol and then tried to take advantage of him,” Isshin spat, drawing his zanpakutou.
“I did no such thing,” Urahara sighed, but Ichigo could hear the tension in his voice.
“He’s just a kid, Kisuke, what were you thinking?” Yoruichi flung the jug down, shattering it and sending a wave of pungent liquor across the floor.
“What the fuck is the matter with you people?” Ichigo shouted, glaring between them.
“Stay out of this, son.” Isshin didn’t bother to look at him.
“The fuck I will.” Ichigo growled, “You stay out of it, it’s none of your business.”
“I stood up for you, Kisuke,” Yoruichi growled, “When Isshin came to me I didn’t believe him. I told him that there was no way you’d do something like this to Ichigo, not after everything he’s been through.”
“I have done nothing to harm Ichigo.” He spared her a look over his shoulder, his voice still calm.
“Then what do you call this? You give him sake and then try to fuck him while he’s in a bad place.” Her voice was cold. “I could feel the pain and confusion in his reiatsu from outside the building so don’t lie to me.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Ichigo shouted, but she continued to ignore him.
“I thought you were a better person than this,” she bit out, staring at her long time friend in complete disgust.
“We all wish we could be stronger?” he murmured, his eyes unreadable.
“That’s enough,” Ichigo snarled, taking a step towards the blond only to be jerked back when Yoruichi’s fingers closed around his arm. He rounded on her sharply, ripping out of her grasp. “Don’t you fucking touch me.”
“Ichigo.” Urahara voice was spiked with warning.
He barely registered the shift in the air and he was already moving, just managing to slip under the arm reaching out for him. He staggered slightly, the alcohol in his system still warring with the adrenaline pumping through him. Soifon was crouched where he’d stood seconds before, her scowl made fiercer by the jagged scar running down the left side of her face; a reminder of her failed attempt to save her vice-captain.
“You will show Yoruichi-sama the proper respect,” she hissed, turning to nod in the other woman’s direction. “Two of my men are watching the others, they have been subdued and are unharmed.”
“The fucking Shinigami are here, too?” He stared at her incredulously.
“No,” Urahara corrected, dropping the placatory tone. “Seireitei would never sanction a move like this, she’s acting without orders.”
“I’m here in the service of Yoruichi-sama,” Soifon informed him disdainfully.
“They’re here because they care about you.” Isshin finally spared him a glance, blade still trained on Urahara.
“No, they’re here because you can’t get it through your fucking head that I’m not some poor little boy who needs daddy to save him.” Ichigo’s reiatsu was starting to pulse. “I’m not interested in your bullshit right now, so just go the fuck away.”
“Ichigo, calm down.” Urahara looked worried, knowing that his emotions were already badly frayed.
“Don’t talk to my son, you bastard,” Isshin bellowed, taking a threatening step forward. “This is all your fault.”
Ichigo saw Benihime come up and felt the tension in the room shift. He spun back to Yoruichi, “Why are you just standing there listening to him? You know me and you fucking know Kisuke, how could you believe this shit?”
She flinched slightly, but held his gaze, “What he’s doing isn’t right, Ichigo.”
“He never did anything I didn’t ask him to,” he shouted, feeling something inside of him starting to slip.
She didn’t reply but something in her eyes shifted, a soft kind of sadness flitting across their depths. He realized that it was pity. She pitied him. She was looking at him like he was some fragile, damaged thing, and he hated her for it. He hated them all for it.
“Fuck you,” he hissed, wanting nothing more than to tear at her until she understood that he would never, never need pity from someone like her.
Soifon’s eyes narrowed dangerously and she lashed out at him, forcing him sideways to avoid being struck. His lip pulled back in a snarl. He could feel the rage pounding in his ears as she came at him again. He started to lunge forward, but an arm slipped around his waist, pulling him back and out of range. Urahara turned, bringing Benihime between Ichigo and his would-be attacker.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered against the mess of orange hair, the tension rolling off of him in thick, smothering waves. “It’ll be okay if you just stay calm.”
Ichigo knew it was a lie, and as if to confirm that fact Isshin gave an animalistic bellow of rage. “Get your fucking hands off my son.”
Urahara barely had time to bring his blade around before Isshin attacked, the clash of steel on steel deafening in the confines of the room. He released Ichigo, using both hands to push Isshin back, moving between him and the younger man. Ichigo spun, making a dash for Zangetsu, coming within inches before Soifon caught him. He hit the ground hard, just as Urahara and his father came together again.
“Isshin, stop it. This isn’t what we talked about,” Yoruichi shouted, even as she lunged forward to help Soifon.
“Get off of me, you crazy bitch,” Ichigo snarled, kicking hard and barely missing her as she leapt out of the way.
He hadn’t even managed to get to his knees when a force smashed into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. He felt something wrap around his body, like an invisible hand crushing him as he fell to one side, struggling weakly. He knew this feeling, it was a binding spell the Shinigami had used against the Arrancar, and judging by the strength, both Soifon and Yoruichi had hit him at once. He redoubled his efforts, it had been meant for the lower level forces, it couldn’t hold someone of his power indefinitely.
Urahara and Isshin were furiously engaged, the former sticking to simple defense while the latter seemed out for blood. Ichigo had never seen Urahara look as young and vulnerable as he did in that moment, barefoot and shirtless, pale hair drifting into his eyes while he spun. His usual mask had slipped and the emotions danced across his face. His eyes flickered to Ichigo, sparking with fire.
“Let him go,” he shouted, trying to drive Isshin back, trying to reach the boy writhing against the floor. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You can’t do that to him.”
Isshin, sensing his distraction, dove forward, forcing his opponent off balance, managing to slip under his defenses. Urahara realized his mistake a second too late and felt the bite of steel on flesh as he spun away. He fell back against the wall, clutching at his chest, blood welling between his fingers from a long, angry gash. Isshin charged again and he dodged under the attack, the force of the blow tearing a hole in the wall where he’d been standing.
“Isshin, stop!” Yoruichi shouted, crouching over Ichigo, though whether to restrain or protect was impossible to tell. Soifon watched them impassively, as if immune to the violence occurring before her.
Urahara felt a surge of reiatsu from the hall and heard Ururu screaming, trying to get to him, sensing that he’d been injured. He clenched his teeth, trying to block out the sound, jumping through the newly formed hole to avoid another strike. He felt his anger rising, pounding through his blood like fire at the people who had dared to come into his home and attack those under his protection.
Isshin started to follow him out but he pushed back savagely, looking for an opening to disarm him, still unwilling to take the fight to the next level. The commotion in the other room rose in pitch and he knew something was wrong. Someone was shouting and wild bursts of reiatsu pulsed through the building, carrying their owner's rage and fear straight into his bones.
“Kisuke-san!” a scream from the hall was accompanied by the pounding of feet.
Ururu slammed into the doorframe, narrowly avoiding the Shinigami perusing her. She pushed free, surging forward as he lunged for her, twisting midair to kick him away. There was a flurry of movement and suddenly Karin was there, leaping forward, driving her shoulder into the man’s back. He stumbled but kept his feet, turning to face the new threat only to be blindsided by Jinta. They all went down in a tangle of struggling limbs.
Ururu didn’t stop, didn’t even slow, as she pivoted towards where Urahara and Isshin still battled furiously. Soifon was already moving to intercept her, but Ururu was too fast, slipping under her outstretched hand, feeling some hair pull free as it twisted in the grasping fingers. She leapt against the wall, using it as a springboard to launch herself at the man who she viewed as the greatest threat.
Unfortunately, she’d lost most of her momentum evading the two Shinigami, and Isshin hadn’t been a captain for no reason. Sensing the danger he spun, unaware of what he was facing, only that it meant him harm. He lashed out wildly, catching her across the face with a heavy forearm, knocking her against the far wall with a sickening crunch. She bounced, hitting the floor and skidding to a stop in a boneless heap.
Ichigo could hear people screaming, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying as he stared at the petite body lying just feet in front of him. He saw her lashes flutter and sweep up over dazed eyes. Blood was trickling from her mouth and scalp, spreading across her porcelain skin and dripping down to stain the floor. She pushed herself up on shaking arms and some blood that had pooled at the corner of her eye rolled down her cheek like crimson tears. He tried to reach her, pulling hard against the spell, and her eyes swung up to meet his.
“Ichigo-san,” she whispered, struggling to her knees, crawling towards him.
“Run,” he whispered back at her, the ringing in his ears shutting out the sound of his own voice. “Run away.”
People were moving, rushing forward, rushing towards her. Behind her, he saw Karin break free, her lips pulled back in a snarl of pure rage. She was throwing herself at Yoruichi who had stepped over him to reach for Ururu. He felt his heart constrict; they were trying to touch her. Isshin was moving forward, wide eyes fixed on the small body. She was still trying to crawl, trying to reach him, trying to help him. She was still crying her bloody tears. His mind was screaming. They weren’t allowed to touch her, he wouldn’t let them.
A dizzy wave of nausea swam through the combatants as the full force of Ichigo's reiatsu crashed into the room, violent and unstable. He twisted, shaking off the binding spells like a dog shaking off water. He was on his feet before anyone saw him move, Zangetsu in his hand, crouching over Ururu. The air seemed to burn around him. Urahara felt the surge of rough energy and knew what it meant, tried to get to him in time, but it was too late; Ichigo was already drawing his left hand across his face as he lunged at his father.
Isshin froze as he saw the mask forming under his son's fingers; saw the tendrils of black creep over his eyes towards the already yellow irises. Ichigo’s reiatsu spiked again, nearly forcing him down on one knee. He managed to get his zanpakutou up in time to avoid being decapitated, but the force of the blow sent him staggering backwards. Ichigo gave him no time to recover, driving forward, smashing into him with a force that took him off his feet. His shoulder slammed into the ruins of the wall, sending pain lancing through him as he passed through the newly formed hole and into the empty lot behind the property.
Ichigo leapt through the opening, launching himself into the air, snarling down at the man who was trying to right himself. “Bankai!” His voice held neither emotion nor recognition.
Isshin had one brief glimpse of Ichigo streaking towards him, tattered coat snapping and black daito hissing through the air, before he was on him. Sparks licked across the edges of their zanpakutous as they smashed together, the force of Ichigo’s reiatsu sending shockwaves out around them and driving Isshin back to his knees. As soon as he was blocked Ichigo was gone again, moving so fast that Isshin couldn’t track him.
There was a flash at the corner of his eye and he turned in time to see his son land a few feet away. Ichigo raised his left hand, pointing two fingers at his father, growling low in his throat. A ball of red energy formed in front of him, and Isshin’s eyes widened in horror as he realized Ichigo was preparing to use a Cero against him. He rolled to his feet but Ichigo had already let it fly with a savage yell.
“Sing, Benihime!” another voice screamed, and the world seemed to dissolve into chaos.
Isshin was thrown to the ground as a blast of crimson energy passed overhead, smashing into the Cero, exploding with a force that was like a physical blow to his chest. Through the raining debris he saw Urahara land in a crouch in front of him, not bothering to look back. Ichigo moved again, disappearing from sight as he shifted into his bankai enhanced shunpo. Urahara spun sharply, apparently more adept at tracking his movements than Isshin.
“Getsuga tenshou!” Ichigo shouted, firing a wave of black energy at the two men.
“Sing!” Urahara countered, throwing up a crimson shield and bracing Benihime against his forearm.
The blast smashed into the barrier and Urahara gritted his teeth as he was pushed back, one knee digging hard into the jagged ground. The shield held, but only by the smallest margins, a web of cracks scarring its surface as it fell away. He heard Yoruichi shout his name but he ignored her, hoping she had the sense to stay away. He was already panting heavily and there was no time to rest because Ichigo was moving again, coming straight for him.
Benihime met Zangetsu as he surged up to meet the younger man, pierced by that hard yellow stare. They fought savagely, vying for dominance, twisting and slashing so fast that they were little more than a blur to those watching helplessly. Ichigo was fast, too fast, and Urahara knew the only reason he’d lasted this long was because he was intimately familiar with Ichigo’s fighting style. Still, he was out-classed and he knew it.
He managed only another minute or two before Ichigo pushed him past his limit and he faltered, leaving a fatal opening. Ichigo slipped Zangetsu under his defenses, wrenching his arm sharply, tearing Benihime from his hand. He bit back a cry of pain as he was forced to one knee to keep his bones from snapping. Ichigo’s hand shot out, tangling in his hair, pulling him up as a blade pressed into his throat. He tried to relax, demonstrating his submission, praying that some part of Ichigo still remembered where he was.
Ichigo leaned forward, rubbing against Urahara’s cheek, forcing the mask away from his face and onto the side of his head. He pulled back, studying the man in his grasp with cold black and gold eyes set in an expressionless face. He cocked his head slightly to one side, leaning forward again, brushing the tips of their noses together in an affectionate caress as the blade fell away.
“Oh, thank the fucking gods!” Urahara breathed in an unusually expressive display of relief.
“I’ll always recognize you, Kisuke,” Ichigo murmured, releasing the hold on the pale hair and turning back to face the shop.
Yoruichi stood just outside the wall, being physically restrained by Soifon and staring at him with haunted, fearful eyes. When she saw him release Urahara she stopped trying to fight, falling to her knees and looking like she might be sick. Karin and Jinta were just climbing out of the opening, flanked by Kon, of all people, who was bleeding from his nose and the side of his neck. Soifon tilted her head, looking behind them but her men were nowhere in sight, apparently having succumbed to their attackers.
Ichigo ran an apprising eye over all of them before his gaze finally came to rest on Isshin, standing only a few feet away. He reached up, pulling the mask from his head, staring down at it for a moment before smashing it against the ground. The darkness seeped out of his eyes, though they were still as hard as ice as he glared at his father.
“Is this what you fucking wanted?” he yelled.
Isshin balked at him. “No, I-”
“You’re a fucking liar,” Ichigo cut him off, stepping forward, his face twisting with anger. “You came here for blood; you came here because you need to hate someone for all of the shit in your head that’s not their fault.”
“Ichigo, I-” Isshin faltered.
“Do you need someone to hurt for you, dad? Do you need someone to bleed for you so that you can feel like a better father?” Ichigo was screaming now.
Isshin took a step backwards, his face paling.
“If you need to hate someone, then hate me, I don’t care anymore.” He took another step, following the larger man’s retreat. “If it's blood you need, then I’ll bleed for you, dad, just leave everyone else alone.”
He pressed Zangetsu against his shoulder and slashed forward, the blade sinking deep through cloth and muscle. He ripped the sword free, arching it through the air, sending a splatter of crimson droplets across his father’s face.
“Is that enough?” his voice lost all emotion, blood trickling from his fingertips. “I can give you more, if you want, it doesn’t even hurt. I can’t feel anything anymore.”
Karin leapt forward as he raised the blade again but Urahara beat her there, knocking Zangetsu from his hand and pulling him back against his chest. He slipped to his knees, dragging the younger man with him, curling around him to whisper into his ear. Isshin was still rooted in place, fingers coated in blood he’d wiped from his cheek as Karin stepped past him without a glance. She bent to retrieve Zangetsu, approaching the pair on the ground hesitantly.
Isshin seemed to regain his senses; he took a tentative step forward. “Ichigo, son, you have to-”
“Shut up.” Karin’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through everyone present. Isshin paused and she turned on him, her gaze hard. “Just shut the fuck up.”
He looked like he was going to try again but she cut him off, “This is all your fault. You can’t ever leave anything alone. You have to dig and pry and pretend like you understand what’s going on, but you don’t. You don’t understand anything, so just shut up.”
Isshin’s jaw clenched, “Karin, you don’t-”
“I said shut up!” she screamed, raising Zangetsu between them, gripping the hilt in both hands to support the weight. “I don’t care what you think. No one cares about what you think, because this isn’t about you. I don’t care if you're mad that Ichi-nii had the balls to go and fight when you didn’t; or if you want hate Kisuke because he understands your own son better than you do. None of that has anything to do with helping Ichi-nii, so I don’t want to hear it.”
“Karin, I’m trying to protect him.” Isshin pleaded, the tip of the sword wavering in front of his chest.
“The fuck you are!” she shouted up at him. “And it doesn’t matter, because even if it was true, you can’t. You can’t make him give you his problems when he doesn’t want to, they aren’t meant for you. Fuck, you wouldn’t even know what to do with them, because you don’t understand them. You can’t understand them. All you do is make things worse and you don’t even care. You just keep doing the same shit over and over again because you’re not doing it for Ichi-nii, you’re doing it for yourself. Just fucking leave him alone already!”
She would have gone on, but a hand closed over her fingers, prying them gently from Zangetsu’s hilt. The arm curled around her, pulling her backwards into a hug.
“That’s enough, Karin; you don’t have to fight anymore.” Ichigo whispered against the back of her hair before standing to face the others. “I’ve had enough, I’m leaving, and so are all of you.”
His eyes speared his father, daring him to speak, before moving over Yoruichi and Soifon who had remained still throughout the entire exchange. “This is over. If any of you touch Kisuke or any of his staff again I’ll kill you. I’ve had enough of this shit so just go home.”
His tone left no room for argument, and even the battle hardened Soifon flinched under it. He stared at them for a moment longer before pivoting sharply on his heel and stalking away.
“Ichi-nii, wait,” Karin called after him.
“I’m sorry, Karin, I can’t.” He didn’t even look back, using shunpo to carry him away into the gathering dusk.
Karin stared at the spot where Ichigo had last stood, feeling a cold lump settling in her throat. A hand fell on her shoulder and she looked up to find Urahara standing beside her, staring at the same spot. He gave the shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning back to face Isshin.
“You need to leave,” he said plainly, sweeping his gaze over the others as well. “All of you.”
Yoruichi flinched. “Kisuke, I didn’t mean for it to go like this. I thought…I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t this.”
“You should have asked.” He looked at her sadly. “And you should have known better. How long have we been friends?”
“I’m sorry.” She dropped her gave to the ground. “I just wanted-”
“Just go,” he cut her off, sounding tired. “I can’t have you here right now.”
She nodded shakily, turning to Soifon and muttering something too quiet to hear. They disappeared back into the building, presumably to locate the two missing members of the Special Forces squad. Urahara turned back to Isshin, half expecting some argument, but none came. He looked old and broken.
“Come on, Karin, we’re leaving.” He turned, heading back the way he’d come.
“No.” The softly spoken word brought him up short.
“What do you mean no?” he asked her dangerously, shooting a look back over his shoulder.
“I mean no, I’m not going anywhere with you.” she spat, “I don’t want anything to do with you right now.”
“That’s enough; I’m not just going to let you do whatever you want. You’re only 13 and it’s not safe to be running around after dark,” he informed her, his tone final. “We’re going home.”
“No, you’re going home,” she shot back. “I’m done with this.”
She turned, stalking into the growing darkness in the direction that Ichigo had gone.
“Get back here, Karin,” Isshin shouted.
“You coming, Kon?” she called back, ignoring her father completely.
The mod soul brushed by Isshin, giving Urahara a brief shrug before jogging off to catch the dark-haired girl. Isshin looked like he was planning to follow but Urahara stepped between him and their retreating forms.
“It’s time for you to go home, Isshin,” he said softly, his eyes hard and unyielding. “Kon is more than capable of protecting her.”
“She’s my daughter,” Isshin bit out.
“Yes, and if you want to keep her then you’re going to have to let her go.” Urahara smiled sadly, stepping around the larger man and making his way back to the damaged store.
(goto chapter 5, part 2)